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Although he refrained from asking Liz any questions, she felt Steve's gaze all evening. She felt guilty about keeping something from him, but couldn't bring herself to talk about it yet. She knew he was puzzled by her silence.. She had always made it a point not to have secrets from him.
During her first marriage, Liz had an affair with a fellow detective. His marriage had survived and he had moved to another town. However, Liz’s marriage didn't survive and she still carried the guilt of cheating on her first husband. Although Steve had never focused on her history and had never treated her with anything but complete trust, she had made a resolution to be always completely open and frank with him. Even now, she didn't detect any distrust in the way that he watched her, merely puzzlement and concern. And that only made her feel worse.
When Liz got to work on Thursday morning, there was a message from a newspaper reporter. Evidently, Linda Graly and Sarah Perkins had told their story to the reporter and he wanted a statement from Liz for his article. She sighed and shook her head. Once that story appeared in the newspaper, she knew she would be inundated with calls from people who, as she had done, checked their birth certificates and found that Ellen Goodman was the doctor who delivered them. She needed to talk to Goodman again and convince her to reveal the records that Liz was sure she had kept on the babies she sold. She hoped it wasn't too late.
She had not decided yet whether to include her own involvement in the case in her report. Nor had she thought about how to explain her knowledge of the skeleton in the wall of the apartment. Nevertheless, there was a phone call she felt she had to make before she could firm any decisions. She perused her notes from Laura and Armen Bedrosian’s case and found Miriam Davis' phone number. Miriam was Armen’s oldest daughter, and after Laura's arrest, took him to live in Maine.
Liz found an empty interview room and closed the door before dialing Miriam’s number. She picked up on the third ring.
“Mrs. Davis, this is Detective Roberts from Fresno.”
“Oh, yes, Detective.” Her tone was businesslike.
“How's your father,” Liz asked, unsure of how to broach the questions to follow.
“He’s fine. His memory diminishes almost daily, it seems. He’s having trouble walking now and he's had a few falls.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
There was silence for a moment and then Miriam asked, “What can I do for you, Detective?”
Liz took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I actually called in connection with another case that I’m working. There's a suspicion a doctor out here was selling babies years ago. One of the names that came up as her former patient is Jane Aronian. Do you know who that is?”
“Well... yes, although I suppose there could be more than one person with that name. I had an aunt named Jane Aronian. She was my mother’s younger sister... much younger. She was only a few years older than I was, in fact. She lived with us after my grandparents died.”
“I see,” Liz said. “It seems to be the same person. I tracked her to Coalinga High School and that’s the same information they gave me. Do you know what happened to her? The school says she left in January of 1971, but they don’t have a record of forwarding her records anywhere.”
“No,” Miriam said slowly. “That’s about the time I remember her leaving. I was 12, I believe, which would have made her 15.”
“Where did she go?”
“My mother said she went to New York to live with an aunt and uncle. She said they were old and needed help, so Janie went to live with them.”
“But you never saw her again?”
“No... My mother never mentioned her. I just thought she finished school and married someone there. Why has her name come up?”
Liz hesitated for a moment. “It seems that Jane Aronian was a patient of the doctor I’m investigating. She gave birth to a baby girl and the doctor sold that baby to another couple.”
“What,” Miriam said in disbelief. “Janie was pregnant?”
“Yes, she was. And she told the doctor that the father of the baby was...her brother-in-law.”
This was met with silence and Liz waited for Miriam to process the information.
“Let me get this straight,” she said finally. “You are saying that my aunt had a child and that my father was the father?”
“Yes,” Liz confirmed. “She told the doctor that Armen began molesting her when she was 13 and she became pregnant at 15. By the time the baby was born, she had turned 16.” She hesitated a moment and then asked, “Does the name Rachel mean anything to you?”
“That was my grandmother’s name. Why?”
“Evidently Janie changed her mind after the baby was born and wanted to keep her and name her Rachel.”
“Oh,” laughed Miriam. “So that’s it, isn’t it? Janie and this Rachel have decided after all these years that they want some of Dad’s money, right?”
“No, not at all. The baby was sold to another couple, after all. She knew nothing of the circumstances of her birth until just a few days ago. I’ve been in contact with her, but I haven’t been in contact with Jane Aronian. I... I haven’t been able to track her down yet.”
“Oh, yes, excuse me.” Sarcasm dripped from Miriam’s words. “So this woman suddenly discovers she’s the daughter of a wealthy car dealer and now she wants to ‘connect with her new family.’ And I’m sure she wants to connect with some of that family’s money.”
“No,” Liz objected, but Miriam kept talking.
“You can tell her for me that she can forget ever getting one dime from my father. Where has she been all this time? I’m the one who lived through his abuse. I’m the one who has had to build a life in spite of it. First, you call me up out of the blue months ago and announce that I have a sister I never knew about. Then you give Laura’s lawyer information about me that was no one’s business. Do you know that he calls me nearly every day, threatening me if I don’t fly out there to testify for her about what Dad did to me? And now, Detective, you call me up and tell me there’s yet another sister out there that no one knew about. Well, you can tell her that I am not interested in having a sister... I don’t want the one I have. If she thinks she's going to breeze in and claim half of his estate, she can think again. I'll spend every cent of Dad’s estate on lawyers before I let her have anything.”
Liz sat in stunned silence for a moment.
“Actually, you misunderstand, Mrs. Davis. The only reason I called was to see if you had any information on Jane Aronian. The woman in question was not any happier than you to discover the truth about her birth. She made it clear to me that she doesn't want anything from you or your father. She has no interest in meeting either Armen or you. You don’t have to worry about any challenges to your inheritance. The only person she had any interest in knowing about was her mother and I think you’ve given me all the information I need. Goodbye.”
She disconnected before Miriam could answer. She let out an explosive breath, laid her head down on the table in front of her, and closed her eyes. Her head was beginning to hurt and she knew she needed to make another trip to Flor Rosada. She needed to try once more to get information from Goodman before it was too late.
She heard the door open and close, but didn't lift her head. She heard a chair scrape and then Alice’s hand patted her arm gently.
“Are you OK, hon?”
“This case has just been a bitch,” Liz groaned without raising her head.
“Want me to pray with you?”
Liz lifted her head and smiled at the other woman. “Oh, sweet Alice, what would I do without you?”
“I ask myself the same question every day,” Alice chuckled.
“Thank you, but no.” Liz pushed back from the table. “I better get over there and talk to Goodman before she kicks the bucket. Once the newspaper tells her story, our phones are going to ring off the hook. It would be nice if we had some actual information to tell people.”
As she approached Ellen’s room, Liz saw lots of people in the hallway. She recognized Jessica Carson and Hal Ramsey. There were others she didn't know, but assumed they were the children and grandchildren of Ellen’s niece and nephew. She paused in the doorway. Henry Goodman was sitting next to Ellen’s bed, reading to her and Pauline sat in another chair. They both looked up at Liz. Henry put the book down and they got up and walked out to the hallway to speak with Liz.
“The doctor says any time, now,” Pauline told her.
“She’s asking for you,” Henry added.
Liz nodded, taking a deep breath before entering the room. She carefully closed the door for privacy. Liz took the chair Henry had vacated and sat down. She and Ellen stared at one another in silence for several long minutes. The old woman’s cheeks were sunken and hollow; her skin had a deathly gray pallor. The oxygen tubing hooked over her ears, coming together beneath her chin. Despite the two small prongs in her nostrils, she breathed through her mouth in small gasps that caused the quilt over her chest to rise and fall. She looked as of she was already dead but Ellen’s steel gray eyes. bright and alert, remained fixed on Liz.
“I found Jane Aronian,” Liz said quietly. “In the wall of that bathroom in Apartment A. Right where your boyfriend, Angelo, put her after you killed her.”
“You're a... very... resourceful girl,” Ellen gasped. “Just like... me.”
“Yeah... I’m nothing like you.”
Ellen’s speech, punctuated with pauses, gasped from each breath.
“Do you... believe... in... re... pentance... and... redemp... tion... Detective?”
Liz frowned and shook her head. “I’m afraid you're asking the wrong person. I’m a cop. All I know is searching for the truth. I leave that other stuff to the clergy.”
Ellen’s smile was more of a grimace. “Truth. I... used to... hear... that word... all... the... time... in church. My... church... the one... I grew... up... in... they... talked... about... truth... a... lot.” She paused and closed her eyes briefly. “My... church... teaches that... hell... isn’t a... p..place... where... people... burn... for... eternity. They believe... that when we... die... we just... sleep... until... Jesus... comes again. Then... the... wicked... will be... resurrected... and... burned... in the... l..lake... of... fire... until... until... they... are... consumed. And... they... just... won’t... exist... anymore. A... little... more... comforting... than... thinking... of... people... suf... suffering... excru..ti..ating... pain... for... ever... and... ever. Don’t... you... think?”
Liz shifted in the chair. “Do you really want to talk about religion,” she asked, not bothering to hide her impatience.
Ellen didn't answer right away, watching Liz with a contemplative stare.
“No,” she answered at last. She pointed to the bedside table. “In... that... drawer... there... is a... notebook. I... had... Henry... get... it... from... my... safe... deposit... box...at... the... bank.”
Liz opened the drawer and saw the notebook. She picked it up and opened it. It was a ledger, with four columns across each page. At the top of the page, the columns were labeled. “Date and gender” was the first column. The second said “Birth parents.” The third, “Adoptive parents,” and the last column said “Payment.”
Liz glanced at Ellen in disbelief. She had suspected Ellen kept records of the babies she sold, but had not expected it to contain so much detail. She looked at the first entry in the book. “Date and gender: 1/27/46; Baby girl” “Birth parents: Sarah Odem and Bobby Joe Howard.” “Adoptive parents: Lucille and Eugene Thomas III.” “Payment: $5,000”
“Birth parents?” She looked at Ellen curiously. “Did all of the girls tell you who the fathers were?”
“If... they... .knew,” she said. “If... they... didn’t... then... I made... them... tell... me... the... most... likely... boy. I... wanted... to... be... pre..pared... if... anyone... came... looking... for... his... baby.”
Liz flipped through the pages; babies, names, dollar amounts. There had to be at least two dozen babies a year, over a 25 year period. She stopped when she came to the last entry. “6/10/71; baby girl; Jane Aronian and Armen Bedrosian; Elaine and Frank Roberts; $500.” She blinked back tears, and then snapped the book closed. She reached into her bag and pulled out an evidence bag, placed the book inside, and sealed it closed. She carefully labeled the bag and dropped it into her purse. Liz leaned down so that her face was inches from Ellen’s and spoke softly.
“I hope your church is wrong. I would enjoy it if every day for the rest of my life, I knew that you were burning in hell, you psychotic bitch.”
Ellen chuckled, which started a coughing fit. Liz stood over her, not moving to call for help. Ellen was finally able to catch a labored breath.
“I suspect... you're not... alone... in that... wish... Detective,” she said.
“Charmaine Tyree and Jane Aronian are dead, Janet Moss is missing. How many other girls were there, Doctor? How many had the misfortune to make your acquaintance and paid for it with their lives?”
“You don’t...understand. It was... about... protecting... the... children. It was... always... about... the children.”
“I don’t believe you,” Liz spat.
“Charmaine... would have... destroyed... Isaac. Her... death... gave him... a chance... at a... better... life. Not... with me... unfortunately. But... anyone... was... better... than his... mother.”
“So you admit that you killed her?”
“That is... between... Abraham... and me.”
“But you don’t deny that you killed Jane Aronian?”
“No, I... don’t... deny it. I owe... you... the... truth, of all... people. She would... not give up... that ridiculous... idea... that... God... wanted... her... to keep... her baby.” Ellen’s gaze held hers. “She... would... have... destroyed... you. If... she... had... kept... you, Armen... would've... found... out, he... would have... taken you... from her. And you... know... what... he... did to... his other... daughters.”
“How did you kill my mother?”
“Potassium... chloride. It... stopped her... heart... very... quickly. She... wasn’t... in... pain.”
Liz sat back down and folded her arms across her chest. She stared coldly at the dying woman.
“And Janet Moss? What child did her ‘disappearance’ save?”
“Ahh... Janet. Yes, I... suppose... I owe... you... her story... as well. As I... told... you, Janet... was full... of rage. She... hated... me... and she... hated all... white people. She... hated the... white children... she had to... care for. All... their... fathers... were off, fighting... in the...war. Their... mothers... working in... factories.” Ellen paused and rested for a moment before continuing. “Some... of the... mothers... knew me... and knew... that Janet... was... staying... with me, that I... had... gotten... her... the job. They... began... coming to me... with... disturbing... worries... about... their... children, and... those of... friends... who... had children... in that... child care... center.”
“What kind of worries?”
“Many... children... were... beginning... to act... differently. They were... having... nightmares, wetting... the bed. They... seemed... afraid... to go... to the... center, but... would... not say... why. I was... concerned... that... Janet... might... be... hitting... them, hurting... them. I went... over there... in the... middle... of the... day to... check... on things. There... was... another girl... working... there, who... was not... too bright. She... had... most... of the... children... sitting... on the... floor, reading... to them. She... told me... that... Janet... took... one of the... little boys... to the... bathroom... to clean... him up... because... he had an... accident... in his... pants.” She paused and closed her eyes for a moment. “I went... back... there... and I... could... hear... him... crying. She... hadn’t even... bothered... to lock... the door. I... opened it... and... they... were... in there... both naked. The... boy... was... six or... seven... years... old... and he... was bleeding... from his... rectum. And she... was forcing... him... to do... unspeakable... things... ” Ellen stopped and shuddered.
“What did you do,” Liz asked quietly.
“I... told her... to get... dressed... and... leave, to go... home... and I... would... deal... with her... later. I stayed... and cleaned... the boy up, examined... him to... make sure... he wasn’t... too badly... injured. I sat... with him... for a... long... time, rocking... him, and comforting... him. I promised... him... that she... would... never... hurt... him... again, that... he would... never... see her... again. I finally... left him... with... that twit... and told... her... that he... fell down... but he... would be... all right. Then... I went... home.
“Janet... was... just sitting... on the... sofa, waiting... for me. We... didn’t... speak. I went... to the... kitchen... made... some tea. We... had...lots of... problems... with... mice. I... had rat... poison... under the... kitchen sink. I put... some in... her cup... and took... it in... to her. I told... her... not to... worry, that I'd... take care... of everything.”
“Didn’t she taste the poison?”
“Yes, but by... then it... was too... late. It’s... not a... pleasant... death, Detective. But I... thought... it was... fitting, considering... what she... had... done. It... took her... some time... to die.”
Liz stared at her. She could detect no remorse in her eyes, or in the cold way she told the story. She seemed almost proud of what she had done.
“Wh..what did you do with her body?”
Ellen smiled coldly. “I'm a... doctor, you... know. I... dismembered... her... body... Fresno... was still... very... rural... back then. I buried... body parts... for miles... around. I packed... all her... belongings... took... them... to the... Salvation Army... and... donated... them.”
“Which the police might have discovered if they had bothered to investigate her disappearance.”
“Yes, it was... a dark... time... in this... country... for people... of color. The... fact... that... Janet was... a Negro... and... I was... white, and a... doctor, kept... the police... from... questioning... my story.”
Liz sat in silence for several minutes. Ellen seemed to doze, but she opened her eyes when Liz spoke.
“Why are you telling me Janet’s story? Why do you think I am entitled to know her story and not Charmaine’s?”
“Because... Charmaine... has no... connection... to you.”
“And Janet is connected to me? How?”
“Why... because... of the... boy... she... was... abusing, of course.”
“Why? Who was he?”
“He was... your... father, dear. Armen... Bedrosian.”
###
Have you read “Pretty Little Girl,” the prequel to “The Baby Thief?” The book is available as an e-book or in print ISBN-13: 978-1534956797. The opening chapter of this book, as well as my new alternative history, comedic, time traveling novel, "Conceived in Liberty," follows the following author biographies.
Don Canaan
Don Canaan went from a Bronx tenement to success in television news film, immigration to Israel, return to the U.S. and then print journalism.
He edited news film and documentaries for NBC News in New York, receiving a joint Peabody Award editorial commendation (as Donald Swerdlow) for Producer Fred Freed’s “American White Paper: Organized Crime in the United States.” In 1974, Canaan immigrated to Israel as part of an American group planning to found and settle the new city of Yamit in the Sinai, north of El Arish (an area now part of Egypt).
Ohio State University's School of Journalism offered Canaan an offer to earn a master's degree while supervising its television news workshop.
Canaan was later hired as staff writer and photographer for The American Israelite in Cincinnati where he enterprised many stories. His series, "Jews in Ohio's Prisons: Does Anybody Care?" received first place recognition for best weekly journalism in Ohio from the State of Ohio Bar Association. It is available for the Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B0057Q222G.
A compilation of Canaan's newspaper articles, “The Cracker Barrel.” is available at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005C1GMS6
He's the author of “Horror in Hocking County” (a true-crime document of alleged satanic murders in Ohio), available from Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B0035RPHN0, and as an audio book.
Canaan is the co-author, along with Marcia Swerdlow Koski of a children’s book, “Miss Rainbow and the Magic Teapot,” at http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B00507CXKS.
His latest books include "Daddy's Girl" (the prequel to Pretty Little Girl) and "The Baby Thief, (which I hope you have enjoyed reading). Opening chapters from "Pretty Little Girl" may be found after these biographies,
Canaan has also written "An Unauthorized Guide to Living in Wayward Pines" and "Conceived in Liberty" (A comedic, time-traveling romp through the history of the Union of Royal American States—our monarchy as founded by Benedict Arnold who defeated the traitorous General George Washington).
The opening chapters of "Conceived in Liberty" follows the opening chapters of "Pretty Little Girl." These books and others are available from http://tinyurl.com/CanaanAuthor
For a free music video of Pretty Little Girl, please visit https://youtu.be/hVQh5Hm9Lsg. Pretty Little Girl, The Baby Thief (listed as "Dedicated Doctor or Baby Broker?") and Horror in Hocking County are also available as audio
Shawn Graves
Shawn Graves, a native of the Central San Joaquin Valley of California, now lives in Exeter with her daughter and a slightly psychotic cat.
Except for a few years living in the Napa Valley and then Oregon, she has resided in the same area for her entire life. Graves is the mother of four adult children and grandmother to two adorable grandsons.
For the past 25 years, this former welfare mother has worked as a nurse in a variety of settings; hospitals, nursing homes, clinics, jails. And for the past 10 years, has been employed for a county social services program. Graves is an avid reader, political and news junkie, crime show addict. and active participant in her church,
As a single mom, she determined that nursing was a practical career to pursue and this has proven to be very satisfying. But now, Graves rediscovered a passion for writing, indulging in it at every opportunity.
PRETTY LITTLE GIRL
By Don Canaan
(and Shawn Graves)
CHAPTER 1
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Laura froze. The sounds of the fair were drowned out by the roar in her ears. It was already warm and promised to be a hot day, but she was suddenly chilled...and a little girl again.
“Daddeee.....I’m scared!”
One of her earliest memories was sitting in one of the cars on the Ferris wheel as it rocked lazily back and forth. The wheel had stopped with their car at the very top and all of Fresno and the surrounding areas spread out from the fair grounds, the lights of thousands of homes and businesses twinkling in the night.
She clung to her father, squealing with equal amounts of horror and glee each time she peeked out over the edge of the car to look down on all of the people. It only took a few seconds before she buried her face against her father’s shirt, the fabric fisted in both small hands. His arm around her made her feel safe in a way that not even the belt around her waist and the safety bar locked over their laps could.
She couldn’t have been more than three years old, much too short for the ride. How had her father convinced the operator to let her on? It wasn’t too hard to figure out. Laura’s father was persuasive and used to getting his way; in his business, in stores, in restaurants, in his home. One thing he always wanted was whatever would make her happy. Nothing was too good for his only daughter. He made sure she had the best clothes, the best toys, and the best education. If she had pointed her chubby hand at the monstrous ride and said, “Ride, p’ease, Daddy?” he would have done whatever it took to get her on.
She didn’t know if he had taken her to the fair that first year after her birth, but certainly by the following year he had begun what would be a yearly tradition. Although he hadn’t lived in Fresno for years before she was born, he had fond memories of the fair from his own childhood. He had been raised there in the days when Fresno was a rural agricultural town. Going to the fair was one of the few luxuries his parents had managed to afford. Taking her back to his home town every year became a ritual that nothing was allowed to disrupt.
From the beginning it was a father-daughter only trip. Laura’s mother was neither invited, nor did she seem interested. They always went the first day the fair opened, arriving at the gate before it opened and staying until well after dark. She slept in the back seat as he drove home, but even so, she was always tired and cranky the next morning. When she was old enough for school she was allowed to stay home and rest.
No matter what was happening at work, the opening day of the fair was theirs. It continued every year, even after she entered her teens and her father was the last person she wanted to go to the fair, or anywhere else, with. But he insisted and he always got his way. The last time she went to the fair with him was nine years earlier, the year she was twenty five. She was engaged to be married in six months and she decided that it was juvenile for a married woman to continue going to the fair with her father.
Laura watched the Ferris wheel, remembering. She remembered the exhilaration of rising in the air, the way her stomach did flip-flops as they descended. Most of all, she remembered being three years old. She remembered thinking her father was the biggest, strongest, bravest man in the world. She remembered that feeling of assurance that nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her.
She looked over at him now. It was the first day of the fair and she was there once again with her father. He didn’t look big, or strong, or particularly brave. Today he just seemed...lost. His hair was white; he didn’t stand as straight as she remembered from her childhood. He certainly didn’t exude the confidence and authority that had always convinced everyone from powerful CEOs to Ferris wheel operators to accede to his wishes.
“Daddy, do you remember taking me on the Ferris wheel?”
He smiled at her.
“I think there’s time for nine holes before that meeting.”
“Dad, we aren’t at the golf course. We’re at the fair. Remember? The Fresno Fair? You and I used to come every year.”
“I just need to pick up my clubs.”
He ambled away and Laura followed a few feet behind, watching him stop to bend down and pick up an imaginary tee. The exhaustion of the last two years suddenly settled over her, along with the familiar resentment of having put her life on hold. The life that had fallen apart. As they neared the exhibit halls, she caught up to him.
“Dad, do you want something to eat?”
“We have a foursome and it’s too beautiful a day to waste indoors.”
“You don’t even know who I am, do you,” she sighed.
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Laura released his arm as he knelt to put the imaginary tee in the dirt. Reaching into her purse, she ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and located a pen. She quickly wrote on the paper and when he stood up, she folded the paper and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt.
“The boys want to meet in the bar for drinks before we start,” he told her.
“The clubhouse is right over there,” she replied, pointing to the Home Arts Building just across the grass.
He smiled and headed in that direction. She watched him, knowing that within a few steps he had already forgotten where he was going. The tide of people broke around her as she stood, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He followed the crowd of people moving toward the building. He stepped through the large open doors and into the shade. The crowd closed around him and then her father disappeared from her sight. Still she stood there, her eyes watching the doorway.
For five minutes she waited, and then she pulled the strap of her purse onto her shoulder and began walking away from the building. She walked to a different gate from the one they had entered less than an hour earlier. Refusing a stamp on her wrist that would allow her to reenter the fairgrounds later, she slipped through the exit. She walked to the parking lot where she had parked her car. Sliding behind the wheel, she started the car and turned the air conditioning on. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel for several moments. Finally, she backed out of the parking space, and pulled out onto Chance Avenue. She made her way slowly through the busy streets until she found the entrance to Highway 41. Merging into the southbound lanes, Laura drove away from Fresno. Away from her memories.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
CHAPTER 2
It was the fifth or sixth time that the man passed by before Steve Jacobs, CEO of the Fresno City Fairgrounds, took notice of him. He was not tall, several inches shorter than Steve’s six feet, thin, white haired. Steve tried to remember how long ago it was that he first saw him; several hours, at least. The man didn’t seem to be with anyone, nor did he seem to have a destination in mind and Steve had seen him in several different areas as he made his rounds. There was nothing unusual about that; a lot of people came to the fair just to walk aimlessly around and look at the sights. Except the man wasn’t looking at them; he didn’t seem to even notice the rides with screaming teenagers or the hawkers trying to lure him to play a game.
Steve watched as the man approached a young couple and said something. The boy and girl gave him a wary look and glanced at one another. He could see them shaking their heads as they moved away, and then heard their mocking laughter once they were well away from the man.
He thought back and couldn’t remember having previously seen the man with food or anything to drink. September’s San Joaquin Valley sun beat down mercilessly, making it unwise to go too long without fluids. Could this be a homeless man panhandling? It was possible. Security guards and the police tried to keep them out, but occasionally someone slipped inside.
Steve began to surreptitiously follow the elderly man. His face was red and his breathing labored, yet his expression was pleasant with an absent-minded smile. The man again approached someone, this time a frazzled-looking mother with three small children in tow. He couldn’t hear what the man said, but he saw the woman frown at him and quickly pull her children away. He decided it was time to intervene. If the man was annoying paying customers, it was just a matter of time before someone reported him to security. Or, he thought, before some macho hot-head decided to take care of him.
He closed the distance between them and gently tapped the man on the shoulder. The man swung around slowly, a smile spreading across his face when he saw Steve.
“Well,” the man said. “It’s you.”
Steve paused for a moment, searching his memory since the man seemed to recognize him.
“Sir,” he finally said. “Do you need any help?”
“Well,” the man said, reaching out and shaking Steve’s hand enthusiastically. “Isn’t that just?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh, sure, sure. We have an 8:00 AM tee time, but I think we’ll make it.”
“Tee time?” Steve glanced around at the milling throng of people, none of whom seemed aware of the strange conversation he was having with the man. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“Absolutely,” the man said with a chuckle.
Steve waited but the man didn’t offer his name. Instead, he seemed to forget that he was having a conversation. He turned and began walking away. Steve moved to stand in front of him.
“Sir? Your name?”
“Don’t you worry, young man. I never forget to tip my caddy. Here you go.” The man patted his pockets as though looking for something, and then reached into a small breast pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. Handing it to Steve he said, “I better go catch up with my group. They can’t start without me.”
Steve looked at the paper as he followed the man, trying to keep him in sight. Written on the paper were the words, “My name is Larry.” Catching up with the man, Steve gently took his arm to get him to stop.
“I’m sorry, sir. Is your name Larry?”
“Well, hello there!” The man shook Steve’s hand again. “I haven’t seen you in a stone’s age! What have you been up to? How’s the family?”
“Larry,” he tried again. “Can you tell me your last name?”
“We just need one more good man to make a foursome. How about it...are you up for it?”
Steve ran a hand over his eyes and looked at the man in frustration. He noticed that not only was his face red, he was perspiring profusely and had large sweat spots on his shirt. As he began to walk away again he wobbled a bit and Steve worried he was about to fall. Gently taking his arm, Steve steered the man to a concession stand and bought a bottle of water.
“Larry, I think you better drink this.”
He put the bottle to the man’s mouth and tilted it. The man drank willingly enough, but when Steve tried to put the bottle in his hand he didn’t seem to know what to do with it. Sighing, Steve held the bottle to his lips again and reached for the radio hooked to his belt.
“Security, this is Jacobs. Do we have any missing person reports?”
“No sir, no missing persons so far today.”
“I’m bringing in a man who seems to be lost. We need to get an announcement out.”
“An adult?”
“Yeah. Elderly man, approximately five six, first name Larry.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Larry,” he said, clipping the radio back on his belt. “I’d like you to come with me, OK? Let’s see if we can find your people.”
Larry offered no objections as he accepted another drink from the cold water bottle. He meekly allowed Steve to guide him through the crowds toward the fairgrounds security office. As they made their way slowly, stopping frequently for Steve to give Larry another drink, the announcement went out over the loudspeakers.
“Attention, please. We have an elderly man who has become separated from his party. He is approximately five feet, six inches tall and his first name is Larry. Anyone looking for this gentleman please contact the security office, located next to the southwest entrance gate. Thank you.”
Steve was relieved when he finally ushered Larry into the security office. He offered the elderly man a chair, but it took several attempts to get him to sit. Steve finally had to gently push on his shoulders until his knees bent and he lowered himself onto the chair.
“What’s going on, Steve? "Steve turned as Jack Padilla entered the office. Jack was head of security for the fairgrounds.
“I found this guy wandering around the grounds. I’m not sure how long he’s been here, but I’ve seen him several times over the last few hours. He’s pretty confused and he had this note in his pocket.”
Steve handed the note to Jack. Jack read it and handed it back to Steve, who folded it and put it back in Larry’s pocket. Steve knelt and gave Larry another drink of water.
“I was worried about heat exhaustion,” he said. “I haven’t seen him with anything to drink and he’s sweating pretty good.”
“He hasn’t told you his last name?”
“Nope. He just talks about golf.”
“Golf, huh? This seems kind of strange,” Jack told him. “I mean, if someone put that note in his pocket to identify him in case he gets lost, then why not put his last name on it as well? His first name alone won’t help locate where he belongs.”
Steve gave Larry another drink of water before standing up.
“Think we should get one of the cops in here and file a police report,” he asked.
“No,” Jack said, scratching his head. “We’ve got the announcement going out. Let’s see if anyone comes looking for him. "He's been here most of the day. Shouldn’t someone have reported him missing already?”
“Maybe they don’t know it yet. He could have been with a group that split up. You know how that goes...one person thinks he’s with the other one, that one thinks he’s with the first, and no one realizes he’s missing until they meet up. ‘Elderly man named Larry’...that should get someone’s attention.”
The sound of retching caused both men to spin around in time to see Larry vomit, slide from his chair, and crumple onto the floor. Steve rushed to the unconscious man as Jack called for the paramedics stationed at the fairgrounds.
The paramedics were close by and arrived within minutes. Larry had regained consciousness, but he was lethargic and mumbling incoherently. Steve stood back and watched as they examined him, started an intravenous line for fluids, attached the leads for the heart monitor, and radioed to the hospital emergency room that they would be bringing him in.
Steve gave what information he had about the man, which was little other than his name was Larry. He didn’t respond to his name, but he didn’t respond appropriately to anything that was said to him.
“He’s severely dehydrated,” the paramedic told Steve and Jack, kneeling over Larry. “We need to go take him to the ER.”
“Could the dehydration be the cause of his confusion,” Steve asked.
“Could be. But there’s no way to know right now whether the dehydration caused the confusion or if he was already confused and that’s why he didn’t drink enough and became dehydrated.” He looked up at the two men. “You haven’t located any family?”
“Not yet,” Jack responded. “When...if...someone hears our announcements and comes looking for him, we will let them know where you are taking him.”
Larry was able to stand up with help and the paramedics convinced him to lie down on the gurney. He was so weak that he didn’t resist and they soon had straps across his chest and thighs to prevent him from falling, or climbing, off as they wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance.
“All right,” Jack said as the ambulance drove away. “I guess we can’t wait any longer to file a police report. If his family shows up and it was just a misunderstanding, the police can just close their case.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “But something tells me that no one is going to come looking for him.”
Conceived in Liberty
A satirical, comedic, timeless romp through history
By Don Canaan
Cover Design by Daniel Traynor
Timeline
In the year 2063, archaeologists at a dig in New York City discovered a hermetically-sealed box containing a memoir, reprinted below. In addition the box contained three Susan B. Anthony gold dollar coins, a death certificate for Robert Lincoln, a birth certificate for a child named Mobius (father unknown) and a male chastity belt.
The box also contained a letter addressed to a Queen Alyssa Pilcher. The letter referred to her as monarch of the Union of Royal American States (URAS).
In 2044 Tamar Weaver played hooky and joined time-travelers visiting New York City in 1863, the capital of the URAS, founded by Benedict Arnold, who had defeated George Washington’s army.
She prevents the assassination of King Abraham I by Southern sympathizers that included his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, his son Robert Lincoln, Robert’s lover, Mary Harlan and John Wilkes Booth. Upon her return to 2044, she decides to study physics, and develop a more complex time machine.
After receiving her PhD, Tamar returns to the 19th century to maneuver a premature end to Robert’s life. The ramifications of his death would, hopefully, eliminate the conspiracy that she initially observed in 1863.
You will be amazed and surprised as you follow the action to its logical conclusion when the mystery of the hermetically-sealed container will be revealed.
Major Characters
King Abraham Lincoln: Kind, but sometimes violent and ambitious
King Abraham's assassin: No, it wasn't...
Tamar Weaver: Scientist and time traveler
Queen Alyssa Pilcher: Scion of a murderous family
King David: Alyssa's skirt-chasing sadomasochistic father
David Todd: Confederate Secret Service sabotage team member.
John Hendley: Confederate Secret Service sabotage team
King Robert Lincoln: He craved his father's love
Thomas (Tad) Lincoln: He received all of his father's love
Lord Robert E. Lee: Ambitious general and Abraham Lincoln's rival
Nancy: Abraham's mother who carried a bad seed
Mary Todd Lincoln: Wife, queen, incestuous lover and lunatic
Elizabeth Hightower: Abraham Lincoln's mistress
Andre Mac Duff: Mary Todd Lincoln's lover
Sean Mac Duff: Mary Todd Lincoln's illegitimate son who was given up for adoption
Felix Hughes: A Confederate friend and guardian of Lincoln's daughters
Ann Lohman aka Madame Restell: New York City abortionist to the rich and famous
John Wilkes Booth: Actor, conspiracist, Southern sympathizer
Mary Harlan: 5th columnist, Booth's mistress, Copperhead lover
Elizabeth Pilcher Queen Alyssa's schizophrenic mother
Queen Victoria: British monarch
Jonathan Smyth-Munch: British spy chief and conspiracy aficionado
Sir William S. Gilbert: Captain of the HMS Magna
Doctor Watt: Chief scientist on the HMS Magna
Arthur Sullivan: First Officer of the HMS Magna
Eloise de Sade: High school guidance counselor, as well as other characters
Sojourner Truth: Former slave, now an abolitionist
Susan B. Anthony: Advocate for the rights of women
Benedict Arnold: The first king of the Union of Royal American States
George Washington: Benedict Arnold's adversary
Jack the Ripper: Murderer
Mobius: Whose son was he?
Ichabod Crane: Former revolutionary soldier
Robert Fulton: Steamship developer and pioneer
Benjamin Franklin: A roly-poly know-it-all
Arthur Pendragon: Camelot's monarch
Sir Lance-a-lot: Bisexual Knight of the Round Table
Chapter 1
"He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before."
(Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer)
––––––––
On a gorgeous June day in 2044, Chauvin High School junior Tamar Weaver, wearing a trendy T-shirt whose literary purpose was solely to annoy adults, entered the building in the city of New York, the capital of the Union of Royal American States (URAS).
She remained in school for only one period and then escaped; her grandparents had always called the escape "playing hooky." On the term's final day, after a quick bus trip downtown, Tamar joined a group of time travelers from AT&T, Advanced Time and Tours. Their next stop would be the Mercy Crystal Palace in the year 1863.
As Tamar and the travelers arrived at the massive glass auditorium, an area surrounded by rundown shops and unpaved streets, she saw the reigning monarch, Abraham Lincoln, sitting attentively listening to a former slave, Sojourner Truth, tell her story.
The bespectacled, bearded king was seated in a box overlooking the stage. His eyeglasses happened to reflect a slight movement of the curtain directly behind him and he instinctively moved his chair aside.
Seated in the ballroom, a few rows in front of the other time travelers, Tamar did not see the man that had moved the curtain. Suddenly, two gunshots reverberated through the room.
The audience panicked and the room started to empty. Tamar, a budding journalist, noted in a small journal that she always carried with her, some key words describing what had happened.
She later appended those notes to read that "everything written in this journal is the truth. If, in the future, I experience other adventures, I hope that I can reweave the fabric of time. Hopefully, I will be able to correct both my history as well as yours."
Eventually, Tamar's journal would be placed into a hermetically-sealed container and hidden in a location where it would be discovered by future archaeologists.
***
"I'm older now and hopefully wiser," Tamar wrote. "It's 2063 and the URAS has been peaceful since World War III ended in 2031. The ruler is Queen Alyssa. But unless certain modifications are made in the loom's threads, peace won't be able to be sustained."
"The queen told me that her nightmares have continued and that, she believes, world peace will be violated by an external enemy; undocumented aliens she called them." The queen said those revelations were revealed to her in a book, which the aliens showed to her.
"I'm not a fool or a fraud, and I don't care whether anyone believes me or not. But I honestly think that my impact on the events that I have described have directly led you to read about it today," Tamar said. "That's why this manuscript was sealed to withstand the ravages of time, as well as the cockroaches that wanted to feast on it."
"Way back when, during the 1939 World's Fair in New York City, the ancient internal combustion engine vehicle manufacturer General Motors explained in its motion picture. 'To New Horizons,' that 'We are all interested in the future as that is where we are going to spend the rest of our lives.'"
"I know that I'm taking a risk by sharing the following tales with you, and that you might think, at the very least, that it's an exaggeration (or that I'm crazy or not the most rational person you've ever encountered), but I'm inviting you to accompany me on my journeys, which will inspire you to ask 'what if and what's next.'"
Chapter 2
The world is supposed to be full of possibilities, but they narrow down to pretty few in most personal experience. There's lots of good fish in the sea, but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring. If you're not mackerel or herring yourself you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea.
Lady Chatterley's Lover
When the time travelers entered the Crystal Palace, all that Tamar saw through the glass windows was a distorted image of a fading street. The murmur of crackling whips had been superseded by the excitement of voices in the building's meeting halls. The massive structure appeared to have its own purifying ambience.
The Alternative Time and Tours group entered an auditorium, a room with raised curtained boxes overlooking a large orchestral floor and stage. There, Sojourner Truth stood erect, seemingly praying on what appeared to be a pulpit.
She was tall, probably over six feet. Her head was erect, her eyes pierced the air, and her clothing flowed with strength similar to a rainbow's initial attempt to punctuate the sky after a thunderstorm. The former slave wasn't exactly bad-looking or good-looking; she just gazed out at the audience and waited for the hubbub to dissipate.
The accordion-type blinds on the glass ceiling darkened and the room took on the appearance of a country church. A memory went through Tamar's head as she glanced up at King Abraham—a memory of an animatronics Disneyland version of King Robert Lincoln, the king's son, walking and talking to a human audience that was watching him.
"I remember reading in our history books," Tamar thought, "about how kindly King Barack, back in 2015, selected a turkey, which he named Abe. In the palace's Rose Garden he reprieved it from being slaughtered and eaten on that Thanksgiving Day."
"He told reporters for the Royal Enquirer that Abe would spend its remaining life in the Children's Zoo at the Bronx Zoological Park. Semantically, that promise was honored until Christmas Day. That's when Abe was removed from the park, slaughtered and roasted for a state dinner being held for His Royal Highness, Suleiman V, the self-appointed caliph of Baghdad."
But this was no Disneyland, and Prince Robert was a real person who would eventually assume the throne. Sojourner Truth was also a real person-a woman that fought her way to freedom and who wanted all people to be free, black and white, men and women.
Prince Robert was sitting next to his father in the box overlooking the stage.
Two rows behind Tamar sat a young woman, a woman whose eyes appeared to be observing everyone in the audience and who, surprisingly, looked like a younger version of Chauvin's guidance counselor, Eloise de Sade. At Chauvin, de Sade never kept it a secret that she had the ability to astral project herself into historical settings.
The tour guide and the rest of AT&T's group were seated several rows in back of Tamar. And because Tamar sat apart from the group, she did not notice the tour guide winking multiple times in the direction of the monarch's box.
Robert observed that winking and hurriedly excused himself. He asked the king's bodyguard, John Frederick Parker, to show him the location of the restroom.
Parker, a member of the Metropolitan Police Force, had been assigned that very evening to guard the king while he attended Sojourner Truth's presentation. His orders were to sit just outside the box's door and prevent any intruders from entering.
Parker previously had a spotty relationship with his superiors, appearing before the Police Board for transgressions such as sleeping on duty, visiting a house of prostitution, firing a pistol through a window and using abusive and insulting language. Yet, because he reportedly was a distant relative of Queen Mary Todd Lincoln, he was assigned the duty of protecting the monarch.
As the two men proceeded down a hallway, they passed an actor costumed as Hamlet apparently on the way to his dressing room. Parker and Robert Lincoln assumed that he had just come from an adjoining theater. The two men decided not to return to King Abraham's box, preferring to watch the lecture from a better vantage point.
The monarch also noticed the man's winking. King Abraham had learned code during the Mexican War and became terrified when he translated the winking code as the word "now."
Sojourner Truth spoke with an accent, an accent of a person whose native language was not English; an accent of someone that did not know how to read or write.
There was much commotion in the room. Many in the audience were against her speaking and had been forced to come by their spouses. Sojourner calmed the overflowing crowd.
"Well children, what’s all dis talking ‘bout? Dat man over dar say dat women needs to be helped into carriages and lifted over ditches, and to hob the best place everywhere. Nobody heer helps me into carriages, or over mud puddles, or gibes me my best place. And isn't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm!"
***
Sojourner Truth was born into slavery in Swartekill, New York in 1797 as Isabella Baumfree. Her first language was Dutch and in 1826 she escaped with her infant daughter, Sophia, to freedom. In 1828, after going to court to recover her son, Peter, Isabella became the first woman of color to win such a case against a white man.
In 1843, Baumfree told her friends that "the Spirit calls me, and I must go." She renamed herself Sojourner Truth and gained national recognition throughout the kingdom as an abolitionist.
***
Tamar's "dialect translator pendant" was attached to her earlobe and disguised as an oversized ear-ring. That, along with the period's clothing that was fitted to her body when they arrived in 1863, allowed the tourists to blend in and understand all that took place.
"I've plowed and I've planted and I've gathered the crop and put it into the barn. And no man was able to do the amount of work that I could. So aren't I a woman? In addition to working more than a man and eating like a man when I could get the food without being whipped too much by the master; doesn't that show that I'm a person?"
"I've given birth to 13 children, most of who were taken from me and sold to another master. And when I cried out my grief, only Jesus heard me. So aren't I a woman? Then people around me talk about this thing in my head. What's it called?"
A man in the tour group, wearing eyeglasses incorporating the latest features of Google Glass, depressed his finger on a small black device that he held. And as he did so, yelled out the word "intellect" to Sojourner Truth's question.
His Google spectacles simultaneously transmitted audio and video to an AT&T supervisor in 2044 who recorded the feed. The transmission was also sent to the would-be assassin.
In addition to answering Sojourner Truth's question, the yelled word, the depressions onto the black box and the real-time feed provided a go-ahead for the historical event. The only things that could not be transmitted were the thoughts going through everyone's mind.
As Sojourner continued, the glasses' eye-tracking technology with its miniscule camera alternated between King Abraham in his box and the presentation on-stage.
"That's it honey. What does intellect have to do with the rights of women, or for that matter, the rights of colored people? If my cup only holds a pint and yours holds a quart, wouldn't it be mean of you not to share your drink with me?"
Tamar's earlobe started to itch and, as she started to scratch it, the ear-ring fell into her lap.
Sojourner continued to speak. “Den dat little man in black dar, he say womin can’t have much rights as men, ‘cause Christ wan’t a womin. Whar did your Christ come from? From God and a womin! Man had nuttin to do wid him.”
With that remark, ushers started walking up and down the aisles carrying tambourines to collect donations for Sojourner's struggle to free all slaves.
Concluding, she told her audience, “Bleeged to ye for hearing on me and now old Sojourner han’t nuttin more to say.”
With that, the audience, including the husbands that had been forced to come. burst into applause. Coins from members of the audience jingled onto the collection plates.
Tamar, unlike the other members of the group, had not been briefed as to a time traveler's proper behavior. She was only told to follow the lead of the other travelers. But she was not able to follow their lead because they were seated too far away from her.
And because she was seated next to a woman that had entered the building walking alongside her, Tamar did not observe the curtain above and to the side of her that had been pushed aside.
Tamar automatically put her hand into her pocket, picked out one of two coins that she felt and put it into the collection plate. She originally had three of the collectible golden dollar coins but had used one to pay for bus fare after she ran from the school.
During the brief moment that the tambourine faced the strange woman, Miss Anthony saw a reflection of herself—on the Susan B. Anthony dollar coin that Tamar had dropped onto the plate.
Miss Anthony picked it up to see it in a better light. But as she did two gunshots rang out and the woman screamed in shock.
Susan B. Anthony's bloody face dropped onto Tamar's lap. The teen tried to pull away and forced herself from the seat. Looking up she saw the costumed shooter leap over the railing facing Abraham's box.
As his legs touched the stage, he yelled "Sed vita et umbra sum malleus conterens umbra." (Life is but a fleeting shadow and I am the hammer that destroys that shadow.)
Tamar had been required to study Latin for two years in junior high school and she was able to translate the assailant's muttering as "Life is but a fleeting shadow and I am the hammer that destroys that shadow."
Before dying, Miss Anthony looked up at Tamar who pulled away, trying to rejoin the group.
As the assassin tried to right himself, he passed a bewildered Sojourner Truth who attempted to tackle him. He pushed her aside and hurled himself toward a side exit. Then with a quick glance toward the fleeing members of the audience, he saw Tamar's face; a face permanently etched into his memory. Although she seemed familiar, he could not recall where he had seen her before.